I'll Exhale My Love For You
by noctuua
Summary: Natasha and Clint are too impatient to wait to get home, so they get cozy on the subway.


_"With my last breath, I'll exhale my love for you. I hope it's a cold day, so you can see what you meant to me." - Jarod Kintz_

_A/N: I just realized that the quote makes it seem like this is a sad fic but it's not, I just liked the quote, hahaha._

* * *

It's late in the evening and the platform's empty, save for a few teenagers and an elderly couple. Clint and Natasha are sitting on a bench waiting for the train to come, and he keeps trying to get his hand up her dress, his advances rebutted each time with a slap to his wrist.

Clint pouts at Natasha, scoots closer and wraps an arm around her waist, his hand sliding over her hip and dipping down to grip her ass. Natasha turns to look at him, one red eyebrow perfectly arched, and Clint flashes her a shit eating grin before he leans forward and plants a sloppy kiss on the smooth column of her neck. He can feel the hum of approval that vibrates in her throat and he knows she's not actually angry because he can feel her leaning into his kiss as his tongue dances over her fluttering pulse.

He hasn't been able to keep his hands off of her since they were seated in the restaurant, and with the way Natasha's dress hugs her curves, on top of what her foot was doing under the table, Clint feels like he's going to explode. His body is thrumming, heat rushing through his veins, and he has to keep readjusting his trousers because the old lady down the platform has been staring at him for the past five minutes.

Of course, Natasha's her usual calm and collected self, and if it weren't for her purring, Clint would think she was completely unaffected by his actions.

When the train arrives (_finally_, Clint thinks), he practically jumps off the bench, grabbing Natasha's wrist and pulling her to her feet, and he doesn't miss the way she growls at the tight grip he has on her, steel-like and bruising, and it's not an irate sound, because she licks her lips and Clint knows how much Natasha likes the bruises he leaves on her milky flesh.

They enter the same car as the old couple, which just so happens to be an empty one, and Clint holds back a smirk when he notices the woman look pointedly at them and then pull her husband to the opposite end of the train. He drags Natasha to the end of the compartment, pushing her roughly against the door between the carriages, and he revels in her sharp intake of breath as her back rams into the handle.

She kisses him in response, her neatly manicured nails raking across his scalp, fingers grasping at his hair, and her teeth sharp, nipping. She bites down on his lower lip, and Clint can taste the metallic tang of blood as she breaks the skin, her tongue laving at the swollen skin.

Clint's arms are on either side of her, trapping her; but Natasha doesn't mind as long as it's him. He's pressing his weight against her, his mouth leaving hers to trail down her neck, and Natasha is trying to keep from giggling, but the wine they had at dinner is starting to make her feel looser and a lazy smile spreads across her face.

His eyes come up to meet Natasha's, and the look he's giving her has got her breathless, the emotion in his beautiful blue eyes as he looks at her through his eyelashes so overwhelming, and she seizes his face in her hands to bring him down for another lip searing kiss and Natasha thinks she's never been so content, she's never felt so free.

She can feel the heat of Clint's arousal against her thigh, and Natasha pulls him closer, pulls him flush against her, their bodies melding together perfectly. Her breasts are pressed up against his chest and his hands have left their place against the wall to grasp Natasha's hips as she writhes against him.

The old woman lets out a scandalized gasp when she sees Clint hike Natasha's thigh up around his waist, and turns to her husband, her harsh whisper travelling across the car.

"Well, I never!"

Clint's laugh is muffled by Natasha's neck, and she squirms at the way his warm breath tickles her skin. He can feel Natasha seeping through the material of his slacks as she grinds down on the thigh he's got wedged between her legs, and his chuckle turns into a moan, low and rumbling. Natasha's got him all worked up and even she's starting to whine in the back of her throat, the rattling of the wheels on the track drowning out their moans, so Clint thinks, _fuck it_, and reaches a hand between her legs, shoving her soaked panties aside and plunging two fingers into her dripping pussy.

Clint swallows the sob that rips from Natasha's mouth with his own, and he crooks his fingers just so, brushing against Natasha's g-spot as his thumb rubs circles against her clit. She's thrusting her hips against his hand, the heel of her black stilettos digging into Clint's ass, and her fingernails biting into his biceps.

Natasha's beyond reason and she's so fucking close—what with the things Clint is doing with his hands and the vibrations of the train against her ass—that it almost hurts. Clint's fingers are dancing around all the right places and Natasha can feel the heat pooling in her abdomen—can feel the coil tensing, ready to spring. When he bites down right above her fluttering pulse, Natasha sees stars and her body tenses against Clint's, her nails piercing his skin through his jacket, and she's suddenly very aware that they're still on the train, and not that Natasha has anything against public sex (especially if it's with Clint), but she appreciates the fact that Clint's body is tall and broad enough to hide their actions—or, at least, most of them.

Her body sags against his and Clint nuzzles his nose into her hair, basking in her cool, yet cinnamon-y scent, before whispering to her that their stop is next as her quivering subsides. They kiss again and Natasha tries to convey all of her feelings for Clint into one kiss, tries to show him how much she loves him with her lips but not words, and she thinks he understands and she knows he feels the same when their eyes meet and she can see it in his that she's his world just as much as he is hers.

The train slides to a stop at their station and Natasha grabs Clint's hand, their fingers interlocking as she practically drags him back to their apartment, all the while stealing kisses intermingled with laughs and smiles and pure, unadulterated love.

* * *

_A/N: So I've been super busy with school and it's the third week of college and I'm already swamped with work and I have no time to write and I feel awful because I haven't finished "Blooming" or "Glimpses" and I apologize to all those followers but I do plan on finishing them, mark my words! I should really be sleeping and writing essays and studying but I wanted to give you all something and writing helps calm me, so I had this plot bunny and went with it. Hope you enjoyed and reviews are always appreciated! :-)_


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